Carl W. Kenney II is an award winning columnist and novelist. He is committed to engaging readers into a meaningful discussion related to matters that impact faith and society. He grapples with pondering the impact faith has on public space while seeking to understand how public space both hinders and enhances the walk of faith.

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Reflections on "You did it my nigga"

No he didn’t!

Larry Wilmore ended his comedy routine with “Barry, you did
it my nigga.”

My first reaction may surprise you. I cheered on the inside.
You know, I couldn’t be to loud with my shout because I knew the nigga police
might be listening.

They wouldn’t understand my inner praise.

I knew white people would condemn the moment because it’s
something they can’t say. They are fully
aware of what happens when they say what black folks nurtured in the culture
that affirms “you my nigga” say freely.
They know not to cross that boundary, no matter how much they know about
life on the black side.

Dread locs, a T-shit with Malcolm X on the front, and a swag
that screams hip-hop, fails to secure permission. Nigga please. Don’t go there
and don’t even think about it!

But, disdain for that dreadful word isn’t limited to white
people. Those old enough to remember being called that word are quick to remind
people what hearing it conjures. Those memories are too deep to use the
forbidden word. Nope. Not even when it avows a bond between two brothers who
understand each other just because they understand each other.

It’s one of those things that many just can’t understand. It’s
code for I got your back my nigga. It’s used to assert a love that’s deeper
than everything that stands in the way.

It’s a language built from the context of the black experience.
Yes, it comes with a troubling past, but it says something that no other word
conveys. It defies logic. We shouldn’t use it. It’s disgusting due to how it is
used by white people. It’s a reminder of over yonder in Dixie land when black
folks dangled from trees like strange fruit.

There’s so many reason not to say it.

But, my nigga says something deep among those who have endured
close to eight years of contempt of our nigga the President. That’s right, he’s
legitimate black. Through and through like gold that has traveled through the
fire. That word suggests enduring without compromise. Wilmore was saying we see
you bruh. We know who you are, and we got you. You one of us, and, yeah, you
did it my nigga.

You haven’t been tainted by your Ivy league education. No,
we don’t agree with all your policy decisions. We have issues with your
inability to impact change for black folks. We wish you would have done more,
but we see you bruh. We know you may have wanted to do more, but we understand
the pressures that comes with having to satisfy white people who can’t get past
the fact that you are one of us.

“You did it my nigga,” wasn’t meant for the white folks in
the room angry because of what they can’t say. It wasn’t meant for the people
with ears plugged after failing to bury the word for the past 20 years. It wasn’t
used to disrespect the office. I heard it as a statement regarding a level of
respect that comes with witnessing Obama endure all of it.

Yes, all of it.

Yes, every bit of the attacks that come due to not being
able to do enough. You did it my nigga even with a Congress and Senate
committed to obstruct your agenda. You did it within a culture were hate is intensifying
because of racism. Yes, my nigga, you did it even with vicious attacks from
black people who want you to lead a charge promoting a pro-black agenda.

You are not perfect. Many are angry that you placed Sister
Assata Shakur on the “Most Wanted List”. We deplore your use of drones to
murder men and women around the world. I’m disgusted at how you have censured
the press in ways that are the worse we have ever seen in America. We wanted more to reduce black incarceration.

Oh, we want you to pardon our brother – Mumia Abul-Jamal.
Get on that one before you leave office. Come on, keep it real Brother Obama.

Many despise how you attack young people in that
paternalistic fashion that millennials can’t stand. These emerging leaders hate
it when old folks tell them how to think and act. Your arms too short to box
with God. Chill bruh.

You did it my nigga is a collective sigh. This thing is
about to come to an end. It’s time to affirm what it all has meant for those
who didn’t believe they would live to see a black President. We watched them
post memes of you as a monkey. We listened to people compare you to Hitler. We listen
as people call you the worse President in the history of the United States.

And, we’ve watched hate fuel the nomination of the man who
started the birther movement. Are you kidding?

There’s more.

We read stories with comments attacking your daughters. All
of this has happened, and we are sick of it. Brother Barack, we see you. We
feel you. More than all of that, we are proud of you for enduring all of it
with class.

You a bad man. You and Michelle have made us proud. No one
has done it better.

How does one convey how it feels to have witnessed you serve
our country? You’ve endured the deaths of Trayvon, Mike, Sandra, Freddie and,
and there are too many to name. You had to take all of the corruption in police
departments and the anger of white people trapped in the evil world of
cognitive dissonance.

We see all of it.

So, how do we say it? How do we say it in a way that goes
deeper – deeper than many can understand.

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Carl W. Kenney II

Carl was named the best serious columnist of 2011 by the North Carolina Press Association for his work with the News & Observer's community paper The Durham News and in 2016 by the Missouri Press Association for his columns in the Columbia Missourian. He is a columnist with the News & Observer and Co-Executive Producer of "God of the Oppressed" an upcoming documentary film on black liberation theology. He is a former Adjunct Professor at the University of Missouri - School of Journalism and Adjunct Instructor at Duke University, the Center for Documentary Studies. He received his Bachelor’s degree in Journalism from the University of Missouri-Columbia. He furthered his education at Duke University and attained a Master of Divinity. He was named a Fellow in Pastoral Leadership Development at the Princeton Theological Seminary on May 14, 2005. He is a freelance writer with his commentary appearing in The Washington Post, Religious News Services,The Independent Weekly and The Durham Herald-Sun. Carl is the author of two novels: “Preacha’ Man” and the sequel “Backslide”.
He has led congregations in Missouri and North Carolina